


Pavlov's Bell

by symphonicdestruction



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-04
Updated: 2018-04-04
Packaged: 2019-04-18 11:13:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14211927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/symphonicdestruction/pseuds/symphonicdestruction
Summary: As America grows up, his feelings for England begin to change, but England only sees America as a little brother.





	Pavlov's Bell

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia, but I do own this Fanfiction. DO NOT REPOST
> 
>  
> 
> A/N: I originally meant for this to be a one-shot, but I might continue it, if more people like it. 
> 
> Pairing: America/England (One-Sided), France/England
> 
> Setting: AU

America tossed and turned in his bed, unable to fall asleep, letting out a frustrated groan, he tossed his blankets off and headed toward the washbasin. America splashed some water on his face, thinking about the reason for his insufficient sleep. America was at the awkward stage in his life, where hormones raged and the longing for freedom grew.

 

It wasn’t that England treated America badly, it was just America hated being treated like a child, like a fledgling nation who couldn’t take care of his own people. America wanted to be more help to his people, more help to England.

 

England was America’s other reason for insufficient sleep. When America was younger, England was his big brother, his protector, but now, America had feelings for England that were less than familial. America decided to head downstairs to the kitchen, for a snack, hoping a full stomach would help distract him from his thoughts.

 

America crept down the stairs quietly, England had always been a light sleeper, and America wasn’t in the mood to be chastised.

 

America came to the last step of the stairs, and was surprised to hear muffled voices coming from the parlor room. Out of curiosity America decided to eavesdrop on England and his guest. America hid in the small space that was in between the stairs and wall of the parlor’s entrance.

Peeking around the corner, America began to eavesdrop.

 

England was seated in the  red and brown armchair by the window. The armchair had been faded with time, but it was England’s favorite. America recalled a time finding England asleep in the chair, with the most peaceful and angelic expression on his face. That expression is why America wanted to be strong, a protector, a hero. So, England could wear that carefree expression all the time.

 

Seated across from England, was a tall man, with shoulder length blonde hair, dressed in a blue coat. The tall man was France, England’s long time hated rival. At least, that’s what England, had always told America. Now, France sat having tea with England, as if they had always been friends.

 

“You haven’t touched my crumpets,” England stated frowning as he set his tea cup down on the table between them.

 

“I’m afraid, I’m in the mood for something sweeter than crumpets, mon amour,” France replied, taking a sip of tea.

 

England blushed at the comment, and looked away from the other man.

 

“Oh, I’ll just-I pick them up then,” England stated, reaching for the plate.

France gently placed his hand on top of England’s, and spoke softly

 

“I’ve missed you, mon amour.”

 

“I know, I’ve just haven’t been able to get away, things have been difficult…”

 

Without saying anything France stood up, and took England in his arms. France caressed England’s cheek and gave England a passionate, longing kiss.

 

Soon. the couple ended up together on the loveseat, locked in a passionate embrace.

 

As, France began to leave a trail of kisses on England’s neck, and use one hand to unbutton England’s dress shirt, England protested slightly.

 

“Please, Francis not here, Alfred could walk in at any moment.”

 

“I’m sure he’s fast asleep, Arthur, besides he’s not a child anymore. You worry about him too much, mon amour.”

  
  
  
  


“Alfred isn’t like Matthew, he still acts so much like a child, I can’t help but, worry about him.”

  


“Alfred is strong, he is growing up, he’ll be alright,” France reassured his lover, caressing England’s arm.

 

“I’ll try not to worry too much,” England stated, letting out a soft sigh.

 

“Allow me to help you forget,” France stated wantonly.

  
  


Alfred tore his eyes away from the scene, tears pooling in his blue eyes. Alfred wasn’t sure what hurt more, the fact that England saw him as a weak child or the fact that England lied to him.

 

Alfred quickly headed up stairs to his room, deciding not to slam the door at the last second, England seeing him cry would only make things worse.  Alfred punched his pillow in frustration, now more determined than ever to become strong and independent.

 


End file.
